


Sometimes He Forgets He's Gone

by Itneveroccurredtomeatall



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Drinking, Fake Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Drinking, Inception Bingo, M/M, Presumed Dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:35:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itneveroccurredtomeatall/pseuds/Itneveroccurredtomeatall
Summary: Hi!This is for the square "Missing and Presumed Dead" for Inception Bingo 2018. Thanks to everyone involved with managing Inception Bingo!I'm excited to be posting something for this because I signed up last year but never finished any of  my squares, which made me extra determined to try to get Bingo this year!** This has been edited to replace the stars with horizontal bars!**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! 
> 
> This is for the square "Missing and Presumed Dead" for Inception Bingo 2018. Thanks to everyone involved with managing Inception Bingo! 
> 
> I'm excited to be posting something for this because I signed up last year but never finished any of my squares, which made me extra determined to try to get Bingo this year!
> 
> ** This has been edited to replace the stars with horizontal bars!**

Sometimes he forgets he’s gone.

He wakes up in the middle of the night and reaches towards the other side of the bed only to find it cold and empty. He finds himself pouring two cups of coffee in the morning out of instinct and then pouring one down the drain. Or, if he’s really tired, drinking the second, in addition to his own, and feeling the caffeine vibrate throughout his body for the rest of the day. He sees couples on the streets and that ache that he had always felt since he was a young boy isn’t there, because he has Eames. But then it returns tenfold when he remembers that he does not, in fact, have Eames anymore.

He knows it’s his fault. He had taken Eames for granted. He had made a mistake. Eames had left. And Arthur couldn’t really blame him.

So he continues on. He takes more and more jobs, each more riskier than the last. His work is still perfect. Flawless as always. He knows everything about the mark and all the people they’re in contact with and all the people they’ve ever been in contact with. But his temper and surliness increase until it’s all his coworkers notice. Sometimes Arthur wants to shoot them. Why should it matter how “nice” he is as long as he gets the job done? Pauline would be fine. It was only a broken nose. Much worse things had happened on jobs before, he had pointed out only to receive a punch to the face himself. He had resolved not to work with Pauline or John anymore.

* * *

Sometimes he forgets he’s gone. But it’s so much worse than the last time he felt this. That couldn’t even compare to this. Then, he had hoped that Eames was out there, somewhere, in the world. He could imagine that the man was swindling the rich out of all their possessions. Or maybe lounging on a beach, soaking up the sun’s rays. Or maybe writing that book he always said he wanted to write. Or maybe getting yet another tattoo.

Eames had officially been “missing and presumed dead” for two years. And it had nearly driven Arthur to insanity. It was only the word “presumed” that gave him hope. Back then, he would have preferred to know the truth for the uncertainty of it all was slowly killing him. He would wake up each day and hope that there would be news about Eames, one way or the other. But each day was a disappointment.

And then, one day brisk autumn day, Eames had shown up, proving that he had only been missing and the presumption that he was dead had been inaccurate. He had been wearing baggy sweatpants and a baseball cap pulled low over his face. And Arthur had sworn and yelled until his voice was hoarse before crying with relief as Eames stood on his doorstep waiting to be let in.

But now Arthur knows where Eames is. He knows that he’s in a coffin six feet deep in an unmarked grave in a cemetery halfway around the world. He never would have thought that he’d prefer uncertainty to certainty.

* * *

Sometimes he forgets he’s gone. It’s so… real here. He can see how Mal got confused.  
“I’ll race you, darling,” the man says with a broad grin as he looks down at Arthur. “Winner gets to pick the film tonight?”

Arthur tries to keep his composure, but he cracks a smile. “All right, Mr. Eames. You’re on.”

And they’re running through the streets of Paris, barreling through crowds, and splitting up at certain corners, only to meet again a few blocks later.

Arthur’s laughing and struggling to breath as he pushes himself to run faster because he really doesn’t want to see yet another art house film.

Eames wins. He’s sitting on the stairs in front of their apartment with a shit-eating grin on his face and two glasses of water beside him. He hands one to Arthur who gratefully accepts it before sipping the cool liquid.

“Have a nice run, darling?” he inquires once Arthur’s breathing returns to a semi-normal state.

“Fuck you,” Arthur retorts.

And Eames laughs. His eyes crinkle and Arthur feels warm inside.

And then he wakes up in his hotel room. Alone. On the floor with the needle hooked up to his arm and a small, worn suitcase with all the worldly possessions he has left.

* * *

“I’m worried, Arthur,” Cobb says over the phone. Arthur can hear him pacing.

“Don’t be,” he replies curtly. “I’m fine. I always am.”

“James and Philippa have been asking about you,” Cobb tries. “They miss their Uncle Arthur.” He pauses. “I miss you, too.”

Arthur sighs. “Me, too, Cobb. But I- I need to-”

“To what?” Cobb interrupts angrily. “Leave everyone who loves you behind? Run from all your problems until you collapse in a ditch somewhere and leave me to explain to the kids why you’re gone?”

“No,” Arthur replies calmly.

“Then what?” Cobb demands. Arthur can imagine Cobb’s eyes flashing and his fists tightening until his knuckles are straining and white.

“I need to see a part of the world where I can’t imagine him,” Arthur replies. He’s surprised by his honesty.

Cobb doesn’t offer an answer immediately and Arthur hangs up on him before Cobb has the chance.

So, he books a ticket to Oymyakon, Russia, the coldest inhabited place in the world, the next day.  
But he still imagines Eames here.

He would be bundled head-to-toe in layers of clothes. Each layer more hideously patterned than the last. He would complain non-stop about the cold. He would call the people who lived here masochists. To their faces. But he would stay for Arthur. They would huddle together beneath the blankets in the lodge room and laugh at their predicament. They would wake up late every morning, because what else was there to do here? There were only 500 people living here and it was dark most of the day anyways. And they would stay sequestered in their room, hidden away from the rest of the world.

But, Arthur imagines, it’s not a wasted trip. It’s cold and bleak and dark here. And all there is to do is drink.

So he does.

He makes the bar his second home. He’s there more often than he is in his own room. The bartender had tried talking to him for the first few days, but now everyone leaves him alone.  
They pity him. The bartender occasionally gives him drinks on the house without a word. A regular once brought him a sandwich. A couple who came every Friday night gave him a scarf with matching mittens on his third week there.

“Darling, why are we in this miserable place?” Eames asks as he wrinkles his nose and glances around the dark bar.

“Hey,” the bartender says with a smile. “Careful, Eames! I bought this place when I was 18.”

“So you’ve said,” Eames says. “What did it cost you? All your good looks?”

The bartender ignores him and turns to Arthur. “How do you put up with him, Arthur?”

Arthur grins as he regards Eames. “He’s really not so bad… once you get used to the smell.”

“Hey!” Eames says indignantly as the bartender laughs.

Arthur blinks and Eames vanishes and the bartender is merely preparing Arthur’s next drink in silence as he always does. The smile quickly falls off Arthur’s face.

The man places the glass down in front of Arthur and Arthur mutters his thanks.

“Come back, Arthur,” Cobb practically begs. “I’ve got a financial analyst position lined up for you in Los Angeles. You just need to show up for the interview.”

Arthur sighs and takes another sip of his drink. “Cobb….”

“You came here to imagine some place he wouldn’t be, right?” Cobb continues.

Arthur swallows and nods.

“But it isn’t working. Because he’d go anywhere with you,” Cobb says. “It doesn’t matter where you go, Arthur. So just come back. The kids miss you.”

“Okay,” Arthur says after a moment. “Okay.”

“Great,” Cobb says. “Your flight leaves in two days. Be at the airport by 3.”

* * *

The kids are thrilled to see him. When he exits the arrivals hallway, James and Philippa are leaping into his arms while Cobb watches from a few feet away.

“Uncle Arthur!” Philippa says with a grin. “Where were you?”

“I had to go away,” Arthur replies as he sets her and James down.

“But you’re back now?” James asks.

Arthur nods. “Yeah, I am.”

“Do you have any checked luggage?” Cobb asks.

“No, just this,” Arthur says as he pats his bag.

“All right,” Cobb replies. “How about we take Uncle Arthur out for a nice dinner?”

“Yes!” James and Philippa say in unison.

“Arthur?”

“Let’s go to Lacy’s.” He knows the kids love the mac and cheese there and he doesn’t mind the chocolate torte.

“Lacy’s it is,” Cobb says as they begin walking to the exit of the airport.

* * *

 “Go away,” Arthur growls. “I don’t need this now.” He straightens his tie and squints at his reflection before turning to Eames.

Eames looks crestfallen as he stares at Arthur silently.

Eventually, he says, “you look good, darling.”

“Well, I’m going to an interview,”Arthur retorts. “I have to wear a suit.”

“Do you even want this job?” Eames asks with a raised eyebrow as if he already knows the answer.  
It certainly wasn’t Arthur’s childhood dream to become a financial analyst. Or to live in LA. He’d always preferred New York. And he didn’t really need the money; he’d accrued a small fortune over the years in the dreamshare business. He could easily buy a small island and live out his days in peace, with nothing to do and noone to see.

Arthur shrugs. “Cobb wants me to take this job.”

Eames pulls a face. “Forget about Cobb and what he wants, darling! Haven’t you done enough for him?”

“It’ll be good for me,” Arthur says, ignoring Eames’ opinions about Cobb. “And I’m about to be late.”

He turns from Eames and strolls towards the door only to feel a warm hand grip his wrist.  
He slows to turn to Eames, but the man’s hand is still around his wrist. This too much. “You’re not real, so go away. I have to go to this interview to get my life back on track,” Arthur says. But Eames just stares at him silently, a perplexed look on his face.

“I think this is a massive misunderstanding,” Eames says slowly.

And Arthur loses it. “Misunderstanding?” he repeats. “What the fuck, Eames? I thought you were dead. I went to your funeral and saw them lower you into the ground!”

“Well… would you believe that I had a twin brother?” Eames asks hesitantly.

“You-you, what?!”

“My brother and I were split up when our parents divorced. He went with my Mum, I went with Dad. He inherited her love of all alcohols and his liver failed and I needed to convince the Egyptian government that I was dead, so… here we are,” Eames finishes.

The room is spinning around Arthur as he takes a step backwards. And suddenly everything is dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this has taken so long!! When I posted the first chapter, this one was already mostly done and I had thought it would only take a few more days or a week at most to finish up. But I moved 3,000+ miles and underestimated how much the move would interfere with my writing and how much energy it would take to adjust. But I'm finally settling in and setting aside more time for writing. Sorry for the long wait, but I hope that you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> This year, I also did not get Inception Bingo. But I'll try again next year!

Arthur’s head is pounding and he can smell something faintly sweet in the air. He groans and finally cracks open his eyes.

At first, the light is nearly blinding and Arthur quickly lets his eyes fall shut again as he focuses on his breathing.

“You alright there?” It’s Eames. Arthur feels the couch dip under the new weight.

“Yes,” he says. But his voice is hoarse. He winces slightly at the sound of it.

“Can you sit up?”

Despite not being able to see him, Arthur can tell Eames is concerned so he nods and tries to ignore the jolt of pain that darts through his neck before slowly easing himself into the upright position and carefully opens his eyes again. It’s still bright, but not nearly as bad as the first time. He manages to keep his eyes open and meet Eames’ gaze.

“I’ve got some water for whenever you’re ready,” Eames says tentatively as he nods toward the glass of water he’s holding in his left hand.

“Thanks,” Arthur says as he reaches for the glass.

The water is cool and welcoming. And Arthur drains it quickly before setting the empty glass down on the small coffee table in front of the couch.

“You missed your interview,” Eames finally says.

Arthur looks at the clock on the opposite wall. He had, in fact, missed his interview by well over 5 hours.

“I’m sorry, darling. I wasn’t quite able to catch you before you hit the floor,” Eames says.

And Arthur loses it. “You’re sorry?” he growls.

“Your interview-”

“Shut up, Eames,” Arthur snaps furiously. “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t care about the interview Cobb set up. I have no particular aspiration to be a financial analyst. I’ve had worse injuries. While this has been giving me a massive headache, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. And, on the topic of you being sorry, what you should be sorry for is for leaving me! You should be sorry that you never tried to contact me. That you let me believe you were dead. No, better yet, you wanted me to believe that you were dead! And I did and it almost fucking killed me,” Arthur says.

“It wasn’t you that I needed to believe I was dead,” Eames says quietly.

“But I did,” Arthur yells. “I believed it, Eames! And you never bothered to let me know otherwise!” Arthur’s voice cracks and he falls silent and looks away.

“I never wanted to leave you… least of all like that,” Eames says quietly while Arthur stares pointedly at the clock on the wall.

“Then why did you?” Arthur finally asks as he turns his gaze back to Eames. All of the previous anger in his voice has evaporated, leaving only pain.

“The Egyptian-”

“I don’t care about the Egyptian government,” Arthur interrupts. “You’ve evaded governments before without faking your death. You could’ve done it again. So, why didn’t you?”

“Because I owed someone,” Eames admits.

Arthur frowns. “You can’t even tell me the truth after the fact, Eames,” he says scornfully.

“Arthur, I-I’m really sorry about this, but I can’t tell you anything more. You’re just going to have to believe me,” Eames says.

Arthur surveys Eames for a moment. He should be happy that Eames isn’t dead, that he’s actually here. And he is. He really is. But he’s also possibly the angriest he’s ever been. Out of all the people in his life, Arthur never thought Eames would betray him and lie to him like this. But, at the same time, he knows Eames well. Or he likes to think he does. Arthur knows Eames isn’t the type to flee and lie without reason…. He knows Eames is quite possibly the best person he knows. Because despite his illegal hobbies and jobs and his carefree attitude, Eames had always tried to do the right thing. He’d always been dedicated towards achieving the best possible outcome. It was one of the first of many things that Arthur had loved about Eames. That he loves about Eames.

Arthur takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, “I believe you, okay?”

Eames looks relieved. “Okay,” he repeats. “I made you some mac and cheese, if you think you can stomach it.”

Arthur offers him a weak smile. “I’ll never turn down homemade mac and cheese.”

* * *

Arthur sits on the edge of his bed, listening to Eames shower and then brush his teeth in the adjoining bathroom. It’s something he’s done hundreds of times. It’s something he thought he’d never get to do again.

The bathroom door opens and Eames steps out with an accompanying swirl of steam and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks Arthur as he crosses the room to rummage in the dresser.

Arthur watches Eames search for something to wear to bed. He had left Eames’ clothes in their drawer after finding himself unable to remove them himself and unwilling to ask anyone else for help. Eames, mercifully, didn’t say anything when he found all of his things in the drawer, including a long-expired chocolate bar tucked in with his socks. Arthur hadn’t even been able to toss that out.

He shrugs in response. “Fine. How was your shower?”

Eames, having found and pulled on suitable pajamas, sits on the edge of the bed next to Arthur. “Wonderful,” he says. “I can-I can sleep on the couch, if you want,” he offers hesitantly after a moment.

Arthur shakes his head. “Don’t be an idiot, Eames.” _I’ve missed you so much. I want to spend as much time as humanly possible with you to make up for lost time_.

“I missed you, darling,” Eames says with a smile, as if he had read Arthur’s mind.

* * *

Arthur concentrates on the soft sound of Eames’ breathing. In and out. In and out. In and out. The moonlight from outside their window splashes across Eames’ peaceful expression and Arthur, for the first time in so long, falls asleep curled up with Eames, knowing that everything will be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave feedback! :)


End file.
